


Captive

by RooOJoy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Character Death, Christmas Eve, Death, F/M, Marriage Proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 10:27:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21894508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RooOJoy/pseuds/RooOJoy
Summary: ". . . Hearing her say his given name like that had him quickly loosening his grip. He shook his head, but didn’t let go and began to lead her down the hallway. “I am the only one you can trust.”“And why would I trust you?” she bit out, her voice dripping of disbelief.“Because my life depends on it, and you’re a noble Gryffindor. If you escape, I die. If you die, I die. You, literally, are the only thing that is keeping my miserable, shit-ass life here. Obviously, I’d rather not die, so I’ll do whatever I have to do to keep you safe.”
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 9
Kudos: 64
Collections: Twistmas 2019 - A Dark Remix Xmas Fest





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [Twistmas2019](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Twistmas2019) collection. 

> I have pushed my ability to procrastinate a deadline like no other for this story, but it also came on so strongly, that I'm pumped (and nervous) to upload before I have slept on it. Alas, the deadline is upon me, and I must push the button to publish. Thank you to my friend, Rosella_Burgundy, for always standing by my side and motivating me. She is a gem, and I hope every writer has someone by their side that is as darkly awesome as she is. She is also the creator of this amazing cover!! 
> 
> PartyLines has also lent her eyes to this piece, and I'm eternally grateful for the last second help to polish this piece. She was AMAZING with all of her helpful suggestions that, not only, will make this piece a better read, but she has already taught me SO many things that will help me become a better writer. *I probably grammatically screwed this sentence up just for her ;)
> 
> All mistakes left are my own. 
> 
> Prompt from the Facebook Group, Dramione Fanfiction Forum & Slytherin Cabel Twistmas Fest: It was the perfect Christmas proposal.

April 1998

The sitting room next to the kitchen wasn’t used often. It was small and more of a place for the family to sit before they took their tea in the dining room.

His body ached.

The sight of his mother withering on the floor at the end of his father’s wand while Voldemort stood over them laughing maniacally was playing over and over in his mind. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his shaking limbs as he slumped against the wall. Without much thought or effort, he slid down until he was sitting on the floor halfway behind the settee. The room grew dark as the minutes ticked away into hours, but he couldn’t summon the energy to stand. It was then that he noticed an odd noise. At first, he couldn’t place where it was coming from, and he shuddered when he realized it was coming from _ her _ prison below. 

He had forgotten about her imprisonment. The terror that had engulfed his home had continued long after Voldemort had returned to find that Potter had escaped. Enduring it until the end was the only thing on his mind. In the darkness, he let his senses focus on the noise - it sounded like scratching. He thought of going down to see what she was doing, but footsteps echoed past his hiding spot and he froze in place. The sound of the scratching didn’t stop and he was too afraid to sneak away.

After days of punishment from the Dark Lord, the most elite of Death Eaters were summoned to the ballroom. Draco stood next to his father, head held high even if his body was sore from the many torture curses he had endured in a short span of time. She, the Mudblood, was filthy from the dirt floor of the cellar. Her hair was a wild, matted mess framing a very pale face. She looked sick, her lids swollen and the tip of her nose red. When he took in the sight of her hands, his stomach clenched, and he turned his eyes away. 

Her fingers were raw with blood dried on the ends, and the nails were packed with dirt and broken in places. In his mind, he put the scratching sound together with the sight of her and realized she had been trying to dig herself out of her cell. With a cackle of laughter from the front of the room where the Dark Lord stood, the silence was broken, and many others began to laugh too. He brought his attention back to the girl that was being brought forth into their fray, and for a fleeting second, he felt pity for her. 

“Kneel before me, Mudblood.” 

When the Dark Lord made a request, it was not ignored. Draco mentally flinched when she did not do as she was told, and instead managed to stand taller, her form swaying and shaking despite her attempt to keep steady. The curse was upon her and everyone watched, no one shocked by the sight of the girl being tortured. Her screams were hoarse but shrill, and Draco thought he’d never be able to rid those noises from his mind. 

He was taught, and excelled at, showing no emotion, but his mind only put the feelings in tiny boxes and locked them away. He always felt them, and they haunted him. A quick shudder betrayed his body, and his father glanced at him, a pale brow raised in question. Draco ignored the look and let the raised hairs on his arms slowly fade as the curse was broken and her cries died away. 

It was then that the Dark Lord made his speech to his gathered followers. He walked around the group, explaining why they would keep the girl, how useless her blood was, but how important she was to keep alive . . . for now. Stopping in front of Draco he grew quiet. Draco locked his shields tightly together as he felt the Dark Lord slither effortlessly into his mind. He let his master wander freely in the darkest parts of his thoughts; that is all the sadistic bastard cared about anyway - knowing his followers were cruel enough to do what was demanded of them. To save himself from more wrath, he let the vile images of his hatred for the girl on the floor show blatantly. 

Seeming appeased with what he saw, Voldemort retreated and spoke silkily, “Draco, your family has shown me how inept the Malfoy’s can be. However, your loyalty and hospitality are still appreciated. You have endured my displeasure enough for the moment. I feel as though a _ gift _ would help to lift your spirits and assist you to overcome how utterly useless you are.” 

The wide smile the Dark Lord gave him was not reassuring, his grey teeth emitting an odour that reminded Draco of Filch’s mop bucket, but he inclined his head in respect. “Thank you, my Lord.”

“Take the girl, Draco. She is yours. Do as you wish with her, but do not let her out of your sight. If she escapes, I will no longer need the Malfoys.” 

For a moment, a very short second, Draco almost opened his mouth in horror and stomped his foot like the spoiled child he was in his youth, but the glint in Voldemort’s eyes was enough to keep him firmly in line. He dipped his head again, and spoke clearly, “Thank you, my Lord.” 

She was unconscious, her wounded hands bleeding freshly on the rug. The stark contrast of bright red blood spreading lazily over the pure white textile did not go unnoticed by Draco. His heart raced and he wrinkled his nose at the stench of her. He didn't want to help her, but he couldn’t keep her in his sights twenty-four seven in that condition. The thought to keep her broken did enter his mind - it would prevent her from running - but he couldn’t stomach doing it himself. 

Getting her cleaned up was the pressing moment of concern, then he could decide what to do with her after that. He could lock her in a room somewhere and have the elves feed her every so often, but she was too smart for that. He knew, without a doubt, she would do whatever she could to escape - another mission he was given that was impossible to complete. 

He cast a quick cleaning spell on her hands and face, but it wasn't anywhere near strong enough. Levitating her up the stairs and down the hallway, he set her on the cushy rug next to his large clawfoot tub. After running the water in the bath, the room filling with steam, he knelt down next to her and cast, “_ Rennervate _.”

Stirring slowly, she groaned as her eyes fluttered open. 

“Granger, get up. You’re disgusting and need a bath.” 

Flinching violently, her eyes shot open and she gasped when her gaze landed on him. He rolled his eyes at her, noticing that her face didn’t resemble fear, but of shock. She sat up and stiffened as she took in her surroundings. “Malfoy,” she croaked, “where am I?” 

He didn’t feel bad for her, but he did pity the sound of her voice. He knew personally that the screams could wear a throat sore. “I’ve been ordered to keep you, never let you out of my sight, but I can’t do so with you looking and smelling like that,” he told her, his hand waving up and down her frame in a show of the problem. His nose wrinkled in disgust as her eyes filled with tears. 

“Take a bath. I’ll get you some tea.” He rose to leave her in peace, grateful for some space to figure out what to do. She was a smart girl and he couldn’t simply lock her away. He needed to make sure that she would adhere to the limits he set. The Imperius Curse was an option, he supposed. If he did take care of her, though, maybe he wouldn’t have to worry about her trying to escape; maybe he wouldn’t have to fear for the lives of his family. If one thing was certain, Voldemort would kill him, his mother, and his father if somehow she escaped. 

* * *

“Granger, you really are abominable at chess, aren’t you?” Draco asked just before he finished the game. “Checkmate.” 

A light sigh echoed across the table, and he looked up to see his companion looking rather bored; he’d notice the look before, she often wore the same expression while he talked of Quidditch. It had been three months since her capture, and Draco had dutifully kept a very close eye on the witch. She was looking much better, having the ability to wash properly and eat plenty. They didn’t talk much though, and she frequently would sit in the window and stare out of it for hours at a time. 

Draco was beginning to get restless. He at least had the ability to put a silent and invisible guard in the form of a house-elf in the room while he took some time away. Granger was essentially locked in his chambers. Sharing quarters was awkward to say the least, miserable at most. He had never had to share anything before. Even at Hogwarts, he was given full liberties by the other Slytherins, but this was different - she was different. 

He attempted to goad her into heated discussions a time or two, but she’d merely scoff at him and lock herself in the loo for an hour or two. He expected them to fight, to hate each other, to be at one another’s throats like they were in school; he at least thought her competitive nature would be awoken with chess. When it hadn’t, he'd become frustrated. It wasn't like he'd asked to be her miserable prison guard. 

Everyone in the house left him to his own defences as if he would somehow catch her dirty blood and spread it to everyone else. Even his parents regarded him coldly, but that was his fault for not keeping Granger locked in the cellar like the previous prisoners. Life over the past two years hadn’t been comfortable, but he was beginning to feel a loneliness that was rooted far deeper than it ever had been before. 

“Get up,” he demanded, as he rose from his chair. 

Her eyes raised to meet his own, and her face remained impassive. A slight twitch of her lips had him wondering if she were biting her tongue from a venom stained retort. Draco rolled his eyes at her lack of response and headed to the door. “Fine, if you want to sit in this room by yourself for who the hell knows how long, so be it.” 

Before his hand had turned the handle, the scraping of the legs of her chair echoed across the floor. “Wait, you’re letting me out?” 

He couldn’t stop the pull of his mouth as he turned and regarded her cooly. “I see that worked. Don’t get your hopes up, Granger, I only need a break from this room. I figured if you don’t try anything stupid, then maybe I’ll show you the library.” 

She was by his side in three quick steps. The bounce of her curls left the scent of vanilla wafting beneath his nose. It was pleasant, and he looked down to note her eyes no longer held the look of boredom and disdain. Instead, they were bright and round, and it seemed like he could almost feel her magic humming. It was cute, he thought, and in absolute horror of the intrusive thought that managed to be released, he gripped his wand tightly and told her, “Seriously, no funny business. I have no problems stunning you and binding you up back in the dungeon.” 

“Don’t be so dramatic, Malfoy,” she said, and at his narrowed eyes, she raised her hand and placed it over her heart. “I promise I’ll be good.”

As they stepped into the hallway, he suddenly felt edgy. He hoped there weren’t any rogue Death Eaters roaming the hallways. As it was late in the evening, he supposed they wouldn’t linger about, yet, he still had a nervous twitch in his gut. Just like the unwarranted feeling before, he was feeling protective over his prisoner. He would not dare let any of those foul, loathsome bastards hurt her - he didn’t even want one of them looking at her. 

He was overwhelmed with these sudden emotions, and for a moment, he almost pulled her back into the room. Gripping her upper arm in his fingers, he pulled her to him and looked down at her face. His voice was firm, and he hoped it scared her. “This isn’t a joke. There are people here that will enjoy watching you hurt.” 

She winced and looked down at where his grip was biting into her flesh, before looking back in his face - her brown irises were glassy yet her brows knitted together in determination. “Are you one of them, Draco Malfoy?” 

Hearing her say his given name like that had him quickly loosening his grip. He shook his head but didn’t let go and began to lead her down the hallway. “I'm the only one you can trust.” 

“And why would I trust you?” she bit out, her voice dripping in disbelief.

“Because my life depends on it, and you’re a noble Gryffindor. If you escape, I die. If you die, I die. You, literally, are the only thing that is keeping my miserable, shit-ass life here. Obviously, I’d rather not die, so I’ll do whatever I have to do to keep you safe.” 

The words tumbled from his mouth in a rush, and he didn’t know where they came from. He locked his jaw and clamped his teeth together in an attempt to keep more words from coming out of their own free will. He watched her from the corner of his eye as she surveyed him. He couldn’t quite tell, but she seemed almost resolved by his response. Her body relaxed into his and they walked together easily. She was quiet after his confession, and they made their way to the library, thankfully, without distraction. 

He pushed the door open and began throwing spells and charms up to keep them from being interrupted. She gasped behind him, and he turned sharply, wand held out defensively, on guard for an attack. When nothing immediately came, he swivelled around, double-checking they were alone. 

Finally, he took note of the witch and saw the awe in her features. Her hands were covering her mouth that you could easily see was gaping wide open. Her eyes were wide scanning the shelves closest to her. He laughed lightly, something he hadn’t done in what seemed like forever. The carefree feeling that washed over him was unbridled but not unwelcome. He wasn’t sure how she was able to garner these types of reactions from him, but he quickly realized he didn’t want them to stop. She was a breath of fresh air in the darkness that had turned into his life. Ironically, she was the light in his muddy world. At that moment, he decided, _fuck it_, if they were going to be trapped together, he wasn’t going to be more miserable than he already was. 

Lowering his wand he approached her and stood close behind her. Leaning down, he whispered in her ear, “Don’t forget to breathe.” 

She turned to him, a watery smile lighting her face in a way that he’d never expected he could give to her. He stiffened, aware that she looked like she was going to hug him. When she turned her back to him as she began pursuing the shelves, he realized he was disappointed that she hadn’t. 


	2. Chapter Two

He had done absolutely nothing to her in the months she’d been trapped here. He wasn’t exactly the nicest person at first when she’d been sick and weak from not just the cellar, but from lack of food from months on the run before her capture. He left her alone, levitating potions and food into her room that she mostly refused. However, she found the quiet and solace of her own bed and room a comfort - she had cried herself to sleep on more than one occasion. Once she was well enough to get out of bed and move around, she had ransacked the room looking for a way out. She wasn’t surprised to find nothing. 

Venturing out into the shared sitting room for the first time was a bit of a shock. It was posh to put it lightly - excessively extravagant was the way she often described it silently in her mind. She found that she didn’t have the energy to put up with Malfoy, so she avoided him for the most part. When he left the shared chamber, she again rifled through the entire place, looking for some way to escape. She tried everything - from all the doors and windows to hunting for a secret passage, and even attempting to break down the door to Malfoy’s bedroom. With no wand and nothing else of good use in this place, it was all in vain. She was allowed in her room, the sitting room, and the loo - that was it. 

She knew he was competent with magic, but she was used to there being a loophole or some type of logic she could breakdown. As it was, there was nothing she could do. As the days turned into weeks, it became depressing and she felt like a failure. She was taken from her friends - held captive by an annoying git who kept trying to pick fights with her. All she wanted to do was to help Harry. She worried non-stop over him and Ron, and she missed them like crazy. Her heart ached, and her stomach would spasm frequently with the physical effects of her anxiety. 

Over time, though, she found she could tolerate Malfoy’s presence as long as he didn’t talk. She, for the most part, chose to be silent. It was when he asked her to play chess that she had realized it wasn’t so bad. If she was going to be held as a prisoner, at least she could do it like a princess. The boredom was overwhelming, so when he mentioned the library, her excitement got the best of her, and she felt like an eleven-year-old girl getting her Hogwarts letter. 

She assumed that Malfoy manor had a library, and when she stepped over the threshold, she was not disappointed in the expanse of the room. The gasp that left her mouth was involuntary - she couldn’t help the thrill that suddenly crawled from her toes up her body to leave her in shock. The room was gorgeous - the cherry shelves lined the walls from the floor to the ceiling, and the multi-coloured spines of thousands of books called out to her. She could almost hug Malfoy, and that was a weird thing to think.

He let her browse the shelves, instructing her which ones he’d read and liked and which ones she should avoid due to them being cursed for various reasons. It was nice, and she found herself watching the way his mouth moved as he talked passionately about a particular series he'd enjoyed. She thought back to the words he told her on their way down - she found it odd to admit to herself, that she did, in fact, trust him. She wasn’t naive enough, though, to think that if Voldemort came striding in and demanded he hand her over, he wouldn’t do just that. 

They spent an hour in the library before he began to start acting nervous. “Should we go back?” she asked him, noticing the way he kept glancing at the door and fisting his wand. 

“If you’re ready, yes, we should be getting back.” Shrinking her stack of books, he shoved them inside his robe pocket. Waving his wand and unlocking the doors, he uttered, “_ Homenum Revelio. _” Seeming satisfied, he grabbed her hand, interlocking his fingers with hers, before pulling her through the door. 

The heat that radiated from the warmth of his palm spread up her arm and settled over her cheeks. She glanced at their laced fingers and couldn’t take her eyes off of them as he quickly led her back to their shared rooms. Once back to safety, he placed charms to keep them protected. It wasn’t until he was done that he turned towards her, relief washing over his face. 

Glancing down at their still joined fingers and back up to his face, she watched as his eyes widened a bit, and he quickly let go of her. A light tinge spread up his neck, and he avoided her gaze as he pulled her books from his pocket, enlarged them, and handed them back to her. 

“I think I’m ready for bed,” he said moving towards his room. 

“Wait,” Hermione rushed out. She wasn’t sure what had happened just now, but she wasn’t tired, and for the first time she actually wanted his company. “You said you’d like to read this one.” She set the book down on the armrest of the couch, and she chose the chair close by. Wrapping a throw around her legs, she curled up and opened the book to the series he had told her he loved. 

Her smile was all-knowing when she heard him sigh, and he sat heavily down in his place and began reading too. 

* * *

Hermione would have never, in her wildest dreams or in her darkest fantasies, think that she would be laughing at something Draco Malfoy had said. Yet, there she was sitting on the couch, a book in her lap, and him at the other end mirroring her position. 

The thing was, she didn’t expect any of what had happened the past few months, but as November neared its end, she felt her guilt rise by massive amounts. 

Here she was, basking in the warmth with good food, a clean place, and actual good company. She was supposed to be on the run with Harry and Ron. She should be helping hunt down Voldemort’s Horcruxes and destroying them. They should have already defeated him by now. It was taking too long, but she pacified herself in knowing that she was researching ways to eradicate the pieces of his soul in the Malfoy library. 

What was worse, she enjoyed spending time with Malfoy. It made her feel like she was betraying her best friends. She never expected for her once nemesis and schoolyard bully, now a guard over her captivity to become a friend. He did things that made her smile, and once they had found topics of mutual interest, they could talk for hours. He hardly left her side, and at this moment, trapped and imprisoned by the very people she was supposed to be fighting against, she found it was quite a relief. 

She did a have a running list of the possible getaways, but each one had something that prevented it from working. What surprised her the most was that it wasn’t only her that was being held captive. She had worked out a couple of months ago, that each of the Malfoys was being held in their home without a way of escape. Malfoy wouldn’t acknowledge this, and when she broached the subject of why he never left the manor, he simply said he was following orders. He did, however, become broody and wouldn’t talk to her for hours. She didn’t have a wand, but magic always left distinct traces, and the wards around each exterior wall were very meticulously placed. 

It had been over a year since she and the boys had first started their mission. The guilt rose up swiftly and she counted back the months - she had been held captive here for seven months already. Malfoy refused to tell her anything about what was going on in the war. He claimed that he hardly knew anything himself since he was always with her. No one trusted him, and even fewer wanted to be in his presence, but he assured her that if something happened that pleased Voldemort, something like Harry dying, he would know about it. 

She wasn’t sure how he was able to manage it, but they never saw another person inside the manor. He would take her to the library late at night a couple of times a week, but mainly they stayed locked in their rooms. Sometimes, he would abandon her for hours. She knew he had some way of tracking her, but she didn’t know what it was. When he was gone for more than thirty minutes, it always made her nervous. Long ago did she stop looking for ways to get out of the room, and instead she would alternate from worriedly sitting down and staring at the door, to pressing her ear to the wooden panel, hoping that she could hear something on the other side. 

That's is where she found herself when he had been gone for two hours. She heard the click of the lock and jumped back just as it was pushed open and he rushed inside. He had an air of indifference about him that he always had when he came back from long disappearances. She had gotten used to his mood swings that would last for a few days, but when he met her eyes, she knew that something was different. 

“Draco, what is it?” Her hands worried themselves together and she bit her lip nervously. “Is it Harry?” 

A mild irritation flashed quickly over his face, and he closed his eyes, breathing deeply through his nose. “No, Hermione, you need to listen to me. I don’t have a lot of time.” He wrapped his hands firmly around her upper arms. “_ He _ is requesting you.” 

Tears stung her eyes and her breathing came in short puffs as she felt fear rise. “You have to get me out. He’s going to kill me. Please, help me.” She was speaking low and fast, and she knew her voice was high pitched, but she couldn’t help it. 

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you, okay?” 

“You can’t promise that,” she responded shrilly. “You have no idea what he’ll do.” Her eyes hardened and she turned to him, hoping her voice matched her features, “You’ll do anything to save your own arse.” 

“_ Silencio _.” 

Her anguish quickly morphed into a blind fury, and she glared at the man who had just silenced her. How dare he charm her. She had to get out of this place and quickly. She would never forgive herself for how stupid she was to actually put trust in him in the first place. 

“Hermione, please,” he pleaded. “I don’t want to do this, but I have to. If I don’t bring you downstairs, he will kill me. If he kills me, what will happen to you then? I can’t chance it.” His words were soft, and she felt her anger melt away to be replaced with dread. He removed the spell and wrapped his fingers around hers. “Be brave. We’ll be back up here in no time.” 


	3. Chapter Three

Draco was summoned to a meeting. They’d been briefed that Potter had somehow entered Hogwarts, and tonight he would perish for good. Voldemort sent the Death Eaters from the manor to the school, but as Draco rose, intent on seeking out Hermione, he was stopped. 

“Draco, a word,” Voldemort demanded in a bored tempo, his face looking down the table in his direction. The room emptied, his father avoiding his eye as he closed the door behind him. “I’ve been told that you have been doing an exceptional job taking care of the task I set you. I suppose any effort would be better than your last task.” The Dark Lord’s eyes flashed red for a moment, and he continued, “I wonder why, though.” 

Swallowing the large lump that had gathered in his throat, Draco sat back in his seat and attempted to stuff every memory, thought, and feeling of Hermione away. He anticipated the intrusion into his mind, but it never came. Voldemort waited for a moment longer, before gesturing for Draco to speak. 

“I’ve done as you asked of me, my Lord.” 

“Lies,” he hissed, and Draco felt his blood run cold. 

“My Lord, she hasn’t escaped. She is alive.” 

“Bring her to me.” 

The order was like a curse, and Draco rose from his place before his brain had caught up with what was happening. He did his best to regain control of his emotions, but Draco’s worst nightmare was coming alive. He could feel the blood pumping through his veins, each beat of his heart making a violent lurch in his chest. He needed to calm down, but she was right, he had absolutely no clue what was about to happen.

Guiding her down the stairs, each step felt like a dose of poison. She was shaking next to him, and all he could do was squeeze her hand tighter. A few steps away from the door, he pulled her to him. “No matter what happens, just don’t be stupid, okay? You don’t have to save the fucking world.” 

Whether his words registered or not, she stood taller, and her shaking ceased. They crossed the threshold, Hermione one step behind him, and the look that flashed across Voldemort’s face as his eyes set on Hermione made Draco’s skin grow cold even as a sheen of sweat ran over his body. 

“Well, it looks as though you have done well, Draco. The Mudblood looks almost too good.” 

“I serve to make you happy, my Lord.” 

Hermione scoffed next to him, and everything else happened so quickly, it was over before Draco even knew what happened. Suddenly, a wand was by the side of his face and pointed across the room. He barely registered it as his own; she must’ve stolen it on their way down. 

A flash of red flew past him at the same time as green light sailed towards them. He closed his eyes, the involuntary reaction making him blind to what happened. Eyes still clenched tightly, he heard the next curse, cruelly spoken by his master, “_ Stupefy _.”

* * *

Christmas Eve 1998

Yes, he was a ninny, but he loved Christmas and he knew this was going to be the best one yet. Draco shifted on the cold stone bench he was sitting on. The fresh air filled his lungs, and a cloud of white surrounded him as he exhaled. He looked back towards the manor, the library lights dimly lit, throwing shadows among the shelves. He knew she was in there; she seemed to live between the tomes and the pages between them. 

His lips curled up with the mere thought of Hermione. He would never understand how and why he got so lucky to have received her. At first, he was sure the Dark Lord was punishing him, giving him the vilest and cruellest of _ gifts. _ Surely, it was to ridicule and maim him to his fellow Death Eater peers. What he didn’t expect was to find a true friend and confidante in Hermione. It wasn’t something that came overnight, but it came nonetheless, and he couldn’t deny his feelings for her. 

The moon overhead was bright in the night sky. The clouds that seemed to never shift had finally parted to let the constellations shine down. It was almost perfect how each little thing was at its most ideal position tonight. The holly’s leaves were dark green, the edges lined in icy crystals. The aroma of the elves baking Christmas ham was sweet and salty, and the silence of the night was refreshing from the constant hum of the manor. 

It had been three weeks since the Final Battle. Harry Potter had defeated Voldemort, and the curse the Malfoys were under was lifted. Hermione hadn’t left the manor, though. They were found together after Voldemort had cursed them both, but nothing was the same now. 

Deciding the chill had seeped far enough into his core, he chose to head inside. He found her in the library as he suspected. Her hair was as wild as ever and glowed under the evening lights. The elves had taken the liberty to decorate the manor in an effort to try to bring holiday cheer to the overall depressing household. The tall evergreen tree in the corner was trimmed with fairy lights and baubles of silver and gold. He smiled, knowing she wouldn’t be expecting his gift. He should wait until tomorrow morning, but it was Christmas Eve, and it felt right. 

“Hermione,” he said, coming up behind her and placing a hand on the couch behind her. The book she had been reading lay open next to her. 

“Draco, you look cold. Where have you been?” 

“I took a stroll around the gardens. I needed some time to cool my nerves.” 

She smiled, but it didn’t quite meet her eyes. “And why would you be nervous?” 

He pulled the ring from his pocket and lifted it to her face. “Marry me.” 

Draco expected her to gasp in shock, tears to stain her cheeks, her speechless head to nod in answer. However, she reached out to take the ring, her eyes blank and her face impassive. She didn’t take the ring, but her pale hand brushed over him, and he shuddered as her cold skin sent goosebumps along his arms. 

“It’s beautiful, but you know I can’t marry you.” Her face was sad, and he yearned to pull her in his arms and relieve her of her pain. “Draco, I am neither here nor there. You have to let me go. Let me go back beyond the veil.”

He shook his head, the pain in his chest aching all over again. He’d never forgive himself for not keeping her safe. This was his way of making it up to her, and he could show her that he was worthy of her. It was fate, after all, that she was taken and he was chosen to keep her. Potter had been meant to drop a small rock from his pocket the day he came to remove her body from the manor. He knew what he was supposed to do when he stumbled upon the book that Hermione had left by her bed. 

Looking up to her face, neither ghost nor truly a body, he shivered in agony. His hand ached, and she smiled then, nodding to where he clenched the Resurrection Stone in his palm. “It’s time,” she said. His breath was lost in his lungs, and he wasn’t ashamed of the tears that streamed down his face. 

He let the Stone drop from his fingers at the same time the ring slipped from his other hand. She shifted from his blurred vision, and when he wiped away the tears, she was gone. He was left, once again, alone, with only her memory and his heart aching in ways he could no longer compartmentalize. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Enjoy the holidays!


End file.
